Partly Cloudy, Chance of Rain
by microgirl
Summary: What could possibly go wrong a camping trip...GSR


_Partly Cloudy, Chance of Rain_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to CSI; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance._

_Author's Note: In EllipsesBandit's fandom, there are many fics that use rain as a plot device. I challenged her to write a rain story, the stipulation being I write one too since, you know, it rains so often is Las Vegas ;) But here it is!_

_EllipsesBandit of course gets her honorable mention for being the super-beta :) _

_And special thanks to velocityofsound for letting me borrow some of her ideas._

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* * *

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Sara knew she could do this. After all, she had broken down complex physics equations in college. Dusted for fingerprints on a radiator cap. Preformed ballistics tests for a shooting involving four different weapons.

So why was it so hard to tie a two-half hitch?

After her third attempt, she closed her eyes, and slowly counted to ten. She never had any problem learning a new task, but for some reason her hands wouldn't cooperate with her brain. And to make matters worse, Grissom had already finished with his side of the tent.

"Do you want some help?" He asked as he stood beside where she was crouched.

She somehow managed to answer him in a fairly calm voice. "No, I can get this." She then went back to the project at hand.

"Okay," he said easily. "I'll get the logs."

Grateful that he started toward the car, she quietly repeated his earlier instructions to herself. Her goal was to at least tie one rope to a stake. Unfortunately, the hitch she worked on for the last few minutes didn't look anything like the ones on the other side.

The curse she let out must have been loud because she heard Grissom call out, "Is everything all right?"

She stood up to find him at the fire pit, several feet away. His eyebrows were knit together, showing his concern.

Letting out a harsh sigh, she relented, and asked for his help. Once she watched him again, Sara finally tied the hitch correctly…at the last stake. Frustrated again, she hoped she wouldn't encounter any other problems on this camping trip.

* * *

"Ow! Damn it!" Sara slapped her arm as another mosquito bit her flesh. Since the sun began to go down, the flying insects were out in full force. All of them seemed to be attacking her; she had five bites so far. 

She pulled the last of the food out of the cooler, and swatted another mosquito on her leg. Grissom would never want to see an insect population go extinct, but she wasn't opposed to seeing the little bloodsuckers die.

He walked over to the picnic table, and announced, "Fire's ready. I can throw the shish kabobs on the grill." When he noticed her scratching a red bump on her wrist, he said, "There's some bug spray in my backpack."

As soon as she applied the repellant to her extremities, her face scrunched up in disgust. _Great_, she thought, _now I smell like antifreeze_. She hoped Grissom like the scent because if it worked, she'd use the spray all weekend.

The only source of light came from the small fire, illuminating their campsite. Everything else was consumed in total darkness. Tree leaves rustled and branches snapped as the forest creatures scurried about.

Sara and Grissom sat on a blanket together, with her head leaning on his shoulder. Earlier they had to move to a different place around the fire because a breeze came in, blowing smoke in their direction. When the burning in her eyes subsided, she enjoyed a relaxed conversation with him.

After he shifted some logs, she put her arm around his back. "Tomorrow will be great for the hike," he commented. "It should stay cool for the day."

"I know, I saw the forecast for the weekend," she told him. "They said partly cloudy, chance of rain. A small chance of rain though."

"Good. There's some species of wildlife I'm hoping we'll see."

With a smile, she tightened her arm around him. "Now I know why you like camping. The outdoors is just one big laboratory for you."

"Science isn't just about the classroom; it's happening all around us every second of the day."

His statement caused her to smile even more. "When was the first time you went camping?"

"My sophomore year of college, so I was eighteen."

"You didn't go as a kid?"

"I didn't have any friends to go with, and my mom didn't like the idea of me traipsing in the woods alone."

Sara carefully entwined their fingers with her other hand. "So who did you go with in college?"

"A research team. I spent a semester in the Amazon with them studying leaf cutter ants. Since each species feeds on different types of fungi, we had to examine many locations throughout the rainforest. I spent about four and half months living in a tent."

"What sort of work did they have you do?"

Grissom shrugged. "I carried equipment, helped photograph the ants, and did some documentation." He sounded as if he hadn't bothered him to do the grunt work. "The doctorates who led the study even published my name in their article."

"Sounds like a rewarding experience." She beamed proudly at him.

"It was," he nodded in agreement. "The data was recorded by hand; all ant behavior was documented by photographs. I liked seeing what was happening. It was very…" He paused as if was searching for the right word, "old school."

She looked up to find him smirking at her. Bumping him with her shoulder, she asked, "And how does this trip compare with that one?"

Before he answered, he blew out a sigh. "I probably won't find tarantulas on my backpack or wake up with a leech on my arm." He sounded almost disappointed. "But I like the company more."

----------------------------

They spent some time stargazing before going into the tent for the night. Sara changed into flannel pants and a long sleeved t-shirt, and settled into the sleeping bag next to Grissom's. She anticipated a restful with the sounds and lights of Las Vegas absent.

What she didn't anticipate was the rocky, uneven ground disturbing her. Shortly after she fell asleep, she shifted because a rather large stone dug into her hip. A cramp in her left leg woke her up the second time. Later on, she developed a cramp in her _right_ leg, and needed to move again. The foam mats Grissom provided to go underneath the sleeping bags apparently didn't offer much protection from the harsh earth.

Sara's constant movements and the lumpy surface didn't even faze him; he lay on his back, snoring softly. She rolled her eyes at his ability to sleep though anything.

The fifth time she woke up, the dawn light began to creep into the tent. Gazing at her watch, she figured she slept for about three hours. She decided to give up on finding a comfortable position, and reached for the book in her bag. About an hour and a half later, Grissom started to stir.

"Mmmmm," he stretched before sitting up. "It's nice to sleep through the night without interruption."

Even though she knew he was referring to not getting called to a scene, she still wanted to hit him with a pillow. Luckily for him, she resisted the urge.

As they prepared breakfast, Sara grabbed a can of soda instead of juice. _I'm going to need a serious caffeine boost to get through this day_.

* * *

She had to hand it to him; Grissom had chosen a beautiful trail. There was green vegetation on either side of the path, with a few brightly colored flowers interspersed. The tall trees seemed to reach the cloudy sky. Sara also got the opportunity to watch a family of deer grazing on a patch of grass. They crossed a few small ditches and a couple of fallen trees. 

About an hour later, Sara began to wince with each step as her feet ached. She thought she'd properly broken in her new hiking boots, but the intense heat she felt on the bottoms of her toes told her otherwise. Not wanting to ruin the pace, she kept going.

"There are some boulders not too far from here where we can stop and have lunch," he stated.

He was completely wrong; the boulders were far away. Or maybe it seemed that way because he got off the path every two minutes to take pictures of the trees or to try to find a certain insect. Earlier, she thought his enthusiasm was cute. Now it was just plain annoying with her being tired and achy. After he stopped yet again to look at some spider's web, they finally made it so the large rocks in a small clearing.

While they are lunch, Sara wondered how much further he wanted to go. She didn't think her feet could handle more walking, so she popped some ibuprofen. She also ate some trail mix hoping for an energy boost. Just as they packed up, a rumble emanated from the sky. A few light drops of rain hit her in the head.

"The Weather Channel said there was only supposed to be a chance of rain." She looked up to see more clouds moving in.

"Meteorologists can predict the weather to a certain extent." Grissom pulled on his backpack. "Let's head back to the camp site."

His pace was fast or the pain in her feet slowed her down considerably. Either way, the distance between them as they walked increased. She just couldn't keep up with him. At one point, he stopped and waited for her to catch up.

His mouth stayed in a firm line. "We have to try to beat this storm."

Sara's forehead wrinkled with anger. "I know."

The thunder started to repeat itself more frequently. The light gray clouds from before turned into ink black colored puffs. Raindrops fells sporadically, but quickly turned to a steady downfall. The moisture already soaked through her clothes before she got her poncho on. Ten minutes later the trail became slippery with mud causing her to slide along every few steps.

When they reached the ditch, she noticed the water level had reached about knee length deep. Grissom walked over just as easily as before. She went across with the slight hop, but the earth on the other side had loosened with the rain. She felt herself slip, and grabbed for something to prevent her from going in the ditch. He was a second too late offering his hand so she ended up reaching a nearby tree. It didn't work because her hand skated down the bark, and her legs slid down into the freezing, murky water.

Grissom gently pulled her out. She looked at herself to survey the damage: Hiking boots soaked to her socks with mud, grass, and some unidentified species of insect larvae; jeans caked with dirt and slimy moss; and her right hand covered in scratches and splinters.

She threw her backpack down to find something to temporarily protect the wounds. Shoving the supplies around, she finally came up with a piece of gauze. Once Sara stood up, she breathed out angrily, wanting nothing more than to go to a hotel.

"Are you okay?" He questioned hesitantly.

She replied, rather icily, "Does it look like I'm okay?"

He swallowed heavily, not saying a word. This only made her more upset.

"Do I look okay standing here covered in god-knows-what with my palm shredded by that tree?"

He shrugged in a sort of agreed-defeat. "Honey, we'll clean your hand when we get back. And then we can back to enjoying ourselves."

"Enjoying _ourselves_?" She snapped. "You have got to be kidding me, Gil. I, for one, have not been enjoying _myself_. Not being able to tie those damn hitches. Being eaten alive by your bloodsucking friends."

The pent up frustration from the last twenty-four hours came out in full force.

"Getting maybe three hours sleep because you chose the rockiest place to set up the tent. These stupid boots beating the hell out of my feet. And now this!" She gestured to the mud on the lower half of her body.

"As far as I'm concerned, this whole trip has been a disaster." She stopped, took a deep breathe, and deliberately lowered her hands. "I just want to be done with stupid weekend, all right?"

He hadn't said a word during her tirade; he just watched her with an impassive expression. Finally, he nodded and muttered, "All right."

* * *

Neither spoke as they walked along the path. The silence made Sara feel a little uneasy; she hadn't meant to go off on him like that. Along the way, she caught a glimpse of his face finding nothing that indicated how he felt. But his blue eyes showed a definite sadness causing a surge of guilt. 

When they got to the tent, they took off their boots, and stepped inside. After she changed out of her wet clothes, she sat down, and unwrapped her injured hand. It would be difficult to remove the splinters using her left hand, but then Grissom sat across from her in sweat pants and a Dodgers hooded shirt.

He tentatively brought her right hand to his face. His jaw visibly tightened as he examined the cuts. She recognized the concern from three years ago, only this time he was able to show more of it.

"I have some things in my first aid kit to clean this up," he said quietly.

Giving him a tiny smile, she whispered, "Okay."

He removed a small razor and tweezers out of the navy blue bag. "I'm going to use these to get the splinters out."

She nodded, and he began to carefully use the blade on her palm. About every twenty seconds, he would look up as if to make sure he wasn't hurting her. The tenderness and care he demonstrated made her heart swell.

Sara hissed when he made a cut a little too deep; he immediately apologized and wiped away the blood.

"I didn't tell you about when I got bit by a horsefly?" He asked as he started working her hand again. When she shook her head, he continued, "It happened while I was in the Amazon. We were hiking to the second site, and the next thing I know a _Phorotabanus cinereus_ takes a chunk of skin out of the back of my neck."

She had no idea of the point of the story, but his soothing voice was a welcome distraction.

"One of the doctorates gave me a heat pack to stop the swelling. It was not comfortable having to wear that in addition to carrying a heavy backpack in the sweltering rainforest. And even after putting heat on it, I still had a welt the size of a small fist. And it itched like hell for days."

"Sounds like the highlight of your trip," she told him in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, it was," he replied earnestly. "Probably the best camping trip of my life. I still have pictures of the bite. I'll have to show them to you." Then Grissom shrugged. "But not everyone likes to go camping. We'll do something else with our next free weekend."

It was then she figured out the purpose of him taking her camping. He wanted an activity of his to become theirs; something that interested him that she could be enthusiastic about too.

Previous efforts had been met with some disappointment on his part. She wasn't a fan of roach racing. The opera did not enthrall her. And honestly, she found archaeology to be a little dry.

But back at the ditch, she'd essentially told him that she never wanted to go camping again; a formal declaration of not participating in a part of his life. Now wonder why he was hurt.

With the last of the splinters removed, Grissom cleaned her hand with hydrogen peroxide, using small amounts so the skin wouldn't burn. He put a bandage over the cuts, curled her fingers into her palm, and covered the fist with his hand.

Looking him straight in the eye, she whispered thank you.

"You're welcome." After a brief pause, he pulled back. "Hopefully the rain will let up tonight. If it does, we can pack up and go home."

"Oh, Gil we don't have to-," but he interrupted.

"It won't be a problem. We'll leave as soon as we can." He smiled as best he could. He then stretched out on his sleeping bag with his back toward her, and read a book.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. A simple apology wasn't going to be enough. How could she make it up to him?

Spotting the gym bag full of snack food, she grinned to herself as she got an idea. She got out a bag of marshmallows, a Hershey's bar, and a box of graham crackers. All the items were sealed in plastic bags so the scents wouldn't attract animals.

There was no way to roast marshmallows in the tent, so she had to improvise. She put a piece in an empty sandwich bag, then, using her large MagLite, smashed it until the marshmallow was flat and somewhat gooey. She extracted the fluff with a fork, and placed it between two graham crackers with a piece of chocolate. Somehow, it actually resembled a real s'more. Pleased with herself, she started a second one.

Grissom turned around when she finished putting it together. "What are you doing?" He asked in utter confusion.

"Making s'mores," she said lightly. "You want one?"

He pushed off his elbow to sit next to her. She chuckled as he bit into the snack she held out. The friendly twinkle returned to his eye, and she used this as invitation to sit closer.

She leaned over to kiss his neck, then brushed her uninjured hand through his damp curls. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to snap at you earlier. I was…a horrible, bitchy grouch."

"Yes, you were," he agreed. "But you're my horrible, bitchy grouch." He pressed his lips on the top of her head.

Sara closed her eyes under his gesture of forgiveness. "We don't have to leave tonight." Scooting back to look at him, she added, "I'd like to stay for the rest of the weekend."

"So you can find s'more to complain about?"

She hit his shoulder for that bad pun. "No. Because despite a few…mishaps, this has actually been fun."

Maneuvering herself into his lap, she softly brushed her mouth against his. He immediately returned the action, and they soon exchanged many slow kisses.

"Okay," he mumbled against her lips. "If you…really…want to stay." His words came out somewhere between their kisses.

Their embrace deepened as their tongues touched. She hummed when Grissom put a palm on her cheek.

"Yeah, I definitely want to stay."

----------------

The End

_Has anyone else noticed that many of my fics involve food of some sorts? You know, waffles, cake, LifeSavers, sundaes, and now s'mores. No? Great, just checking._


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